I'm Dumber Than A Car Seat

Something I've discovered in the few weeks since Grant was born is that most of the random knowledge I possess has been of absolutely no value whatsoever when it comes to dealing with newborn, er, stuff. I have a secondary degree from Indiana University (a source of amusement to my engineering friends from Purdue), and I am living proof that collegiate degrees are absolutely useless when dealing with even the most trivial aspects of having a newborn. And let's not forget all the useful piles of music trivia I have stored up. (At some point Grant is going to ask me a music question, and as I get all excited to whip out the answer, I'm going to realize it either doesn't involve the Beach Boys or involves any artist since 1995, again rendering me useless.)

Take, for example, his clothes. It doesn't matter what time of day it is or what amount of sleep I've had recently, I cannot button up a one-sy (sp?) (I can't spell it because I didn't even know what it was until last month) without some amount of difficulty. I start at the top, and I button sequentially as I move down, but things always go awry once I get to his legs. No matter how careful I am, there are extra snaps left over around his crotch. Or there will be two of the snappy parts left, but no snap-into parts (are these considered "male" and "female" in the snap universe?) Anyway, I always end up having to start over, only to be left with different snappy parts left the next time. And the more that I think about it, I don't even think I'm actually discussing a one-sy. I believe the proper term for this is a "sleeper," but to me it's just a soft, infant-sized body bag with evil snappy parts.

I feel the same way regarding car seats. We have two mid sized cars, and to lean over and actually lock the car seat into the base requires my back to bend at an angle which leaves me needing to be in traction for the next three days. But that's an ordeal only after I've actually gotten the kid buckled into the seat. I have to twist his arms backward to get them through two straps which have to be adjusted on the back of the seat, and they're supposed to be tight enough for him to sustain a 75 MPH head on collision without moving more than 1/2" in any direction which means you'll have to tear his arms off to get him into the thing. Same goes for the belt that runs between his legs and around his hips and then snaps into the arm strap thingy. I feel bad for the poor guy. By the time we're done, he's praying for a car crash just so he can be released from this seat and breathe again. The car seat makes dismemberment seem like a high note.

The base of the car seat is equally disastrous. There are a myriad of latches and buckles in the back of my car which, apparently, are for car seats. Up to this point, they've merely confused guests in my vehicle into spending twnety minutes trying to buckle their seatbelt into a latch that doesn't fit. Now we have to run a labyrinth of belts and buckels into various latches both on and behind the seat, all in an effort to securely mount the base so that our beloved Grant will be able to walk away from virtually any accident, hopefully in good enough shape to one day feed his parents who were most likely ejected from the vehicle.

I know these things are all for his safety, but after slamming a finger under the seat just as it latches onto the base a few times, I'm ready to tell the poor kid that he won't be going on any more rides until he's big enough to drive himself.